


Aftermath of Sector 7

by Joshatron



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Angst, Badass Piloting Skills, Blood, Blood and Injury, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hospitals, Major Character Injury, PlateFall, Sector 7 Plate Drop (Compilation of FFVII), Temporary Character Death, Violence, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24587926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joshatron/pseuds/Joshatron
Summary: “’Press the button,’ they said. ’No-one would be there,’ they said” would be the thoughts going through Reno’s mind as he leapt from the helicopter if he wasn’t focused on his task of deactivating the plate support for Sector 7.Change of plan then: delay AVALANCHE from touching the panel for as long as possible. Tseng needed time to pick up Aerith and Reeve needed time to evacuate as many people in what little time they had. He could do that, no sweat. Reno was a consummate professional after all. There was no-one better than him for the job.Reno's fight for life in the OG FF7 both at the plate support and in the ShinRa infirmary.
Relationships: Reno & Rude (Compilation of FFVII), Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII) (implied), Rude & Tseng (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	Aftermath of Sector 7

**Author's Note:**

> This fic serves as a precursor to a thread I have going on my Reno role-play account but it can also be read as a standalone story. An alternate version will be written for the Remake at some point with some parallels because those are fun.

“’Press the button,’ they said. ’No-one would be there,’ they said” would be the thoughts going through Reno’s mind as he leapt from the helicopter if he wasn’t focused on his task of deactivating the plate support for Sector 7.

Change of plan then: delay AVALANCHE from touching the panel for as long as possible. Tseng needed time to pick up Aerith and Reeve needed time to evacuate as many people in what little time they had. He could do that, no sweat. Reno _was_ a consummate professional after all. There was no-one better than him for the job.

Dodging the ex-SOLDIER and his gang wasn’t too difficult as they were more focused on the helicopter and his leap from it than himself actually heading for the control panel. He typed as fast as he could before the three on the support surrounded him and he made a show of pressing a button on the console, claiming the mission was now complete. Of course it wasn’t, that was just the final key to activate the confirmation button. If any of the numbskulls in front of Reno touched the wrong set of buttons now, everything would go wrong.

Time to be the attention-loving asshole he was born to be.

AVALANCHE fought harder than he expected. Both sides _were_ fighting for survival at that point, to be fair. But still, Reno expected to leave with just some bruises and maybe a little bleeding at most, not have the snot beaten out of him with bullets tearing through cloth, blade carving through skin, and fists bringing forth bruises. They could have done with more time but he needed to bail then and there otherwise no-one on the mission would return to ShinRa at all.

Bidding his farewell, Reno ran past the console towards the railing and hit the confirmation button, shrill sirens warning everyone in attendance to run. Allowing adrenaline to take over and numb his pain sounded really nice but the shaking it would leave him with would put him at a disadvantage, especially since he needed precision as he gripped the railing and leapt over it, ignoring the twinge in his wrist at the motion. _Just tune it out._

Reno landed with a roll and stumbled out, meaning he was probably worse off than he thought, but that would have to wait until he got the mission squad plus Aerith back to ShinRa. Sprinting to the helicopter was his priority, not the health he could feel draining from his body. The Turk was earlier than previously agreed – arriving at the same time as Tseng and Aerith – but they needed to evacuate then and there before they were caught up in the soon-to-be-falling plate.

He climbed through the door shortly after Tseng, ignoring any and all looks he received, and chased the pilot into the co-pilot seat. His daring tricks were going to the be only way they would get out in time and no beginner pilot like some infantry would even have the balls to attempt such a feat. As already planned, Reno hovered by the control platform to allow Tseng to taunt the members of AVALANCHE and goad them into infiltrating ShinRa.

That brief break seemed like the perfect time to assess himself properly. Aching wrist that was either sprained or broken, gashes of varying depth, pain in his chest with every breath – the large man with the gun arm definitely aimed there quite a bit, aching face and just… blood everywhere. The thought of him getting blood all over the helicopter amused him and he barked out a quiet laugh. A glance to his left revealed the infantryman staring at him in concern. Was he saying something? Movement of the infantryman’s hands towards the control stick had Reno’s hardened gaze snapping to the man’s hands and then his face.

“If you touch that I’m banishin’ you t’the back- you know what?” Reno faced forward again and attempted to sit in some way that was comfortable but kept him focused. “Go t’the back anyway. I got this an’ I don’t need you distractin’ me.”

Gods, he was tired.

A reflection in the window to the right caught Reno’s attention and he grimaced as much as his aching face would allow. Even his face didn’t escape a beating: covered in scrapes, bruises and blood. Cleaning himself when they got back was going to be a chore. He just hoped he could either get enough off before Rude saw or convince Rude it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Gods, he couldn’t lie to Rude. How much did he even know about the mission?

The rumbling and screeching of metal above them reined Reno’s attention back to the present and he prepared himself to fly them all out. With Tseng’s signal, it was time to go. “Buckle up!” Flying higher the moment the door closed, Reno booked it to the closest exit point and dodged falling debris like he had a sixth sense for it, even going as far as to fly sideways to escape. His vision was tunnelled and focused as he flew.

Coming out from under the plate was like a breath of fresh air, but that didn’t stop the dread from settling in Reno’s stomach as he took a moment to watch the Sector 7 plate collapse, nor did it stop a chill from setting in his bones as his injuries decided it was time to play catch-up. It was so, so tempting to give in then and there, but he banished his co-pilot earlier and so had a duty to bring them all to ShinRa safely.

Touching down on the helipad had never in Reno’s life filled him with so much relief before. A few moments passed as he collected himself before peeling away from his chair, hand gripping the backrest to help push himself away and pull himself up. Standing up was probably the worst thing he could have done he noted as the pool of his blood on the chair caught his eye with a soft “Ah.”

Lanky legs gave out as he tried to take a step and the redhead fell in slow motion, cold chill seeping in further and seizing his chest in its clutches. Vision blackening, a chorus of ‘sir’s rang out, lead by Tseng’s more reserved ‘Reno’ and a high-pitched scream of his name before the pathetic splat of his blood-soaked body hitting the floor barely reached his ears.

* * *

Watching Reno crumple with no resistance was disturbing in itself; the man always fought to stay standing so him falling to the floor was a huge concern. His skin was cold when Tseng turned him over and it seemed he was struggling for breath with each passing moment. Reno was in critical condition the whole time and still he brought them to ShinRa in one piece.

What an idiot.

The swift arrival of medics told Tseng that Reno’s banished co-pilot had contacted them after witnessing the extent of Reno’s injuries. Tseng would see to it that the man received a generous gift from the Turks as a thank you for saving one of their own.

Organising Aerith’s escort to Research and Development was (mostly) hassle-free as Reno’s rapidly paling form was examined and loaded onto a gurney. Tseng followed – hand gripped tight on one of the gurney handles – and barked at anyone thoughtless enough not to move out of the way. As they reached the infirmary, he was ordered to stay behind so the medics could use all the room they needed.

Rude offered to wait for the medics to finish with Reno with the promise of updates so Tseng could file the reports for the ‘incident’. Writing reports was one of the last things Tseng wanted to do but the task would keep him occupied and with Rude watching over his second in command, he would be free to take any calls that required him. He was just thankful Rude didn’t have to see the state Reno was in. There was too much blood.

Sighing to himself, Tseng took the lift down to the Turks’ auditing room as his worst fears plagued his mind. Reno would pull through just like he always did, but the sight of his second in such a terrible state brought forth too many doubts and uncertainties. So once the Wutai reached his desk, he took a minute to pray to Leviathan - and any other god that would listen - to watch over Reno and ensure he wouldn’t leave them so soon.

Putting pen to paper, Tseng distracted himself with his first report. Years of practised penmanship fighting with the weight of his second’s unstable fate had him finish it within two hours. He removed his PHS and unlocked it, thin lips pressed into an even thinner line at the lack of updates. Another report would simply never be written until he had an update – besides, Rude could probably do with relief from Reno duty after two straight hours.

Returning to the infirmary took longer than Tseng felt appropriate, even as he walked faster than normal. His PHS vibrated twice while he was on his way.

[TEXT: Rude] He’s in a room and asleep. They won’t tell me anything  
[TEXT: Rude] Nurses say they want to talk to you

Tseng’s lips pressed into a thin line for the second time that day as he prepared himself for the information that would soon be presented to him. If they wouldn’t tell Rude, it could only be gravely serious. Approaching the nurses’ station, he inquired about Reno’s whereabouts. The nurses shared a look before one – likely the head nurse – grabbed something from the table before leading him to the redhead’s room, talking along the way.

“I’m not going to sugar-coat it: we didn’t think he was going to survive. He lost a lot of blood by the time he arrived due to multiple lacerations, gunshot wounds, and blunt-force injuries. There was extensive bruising across his chest and face, overstretched muscles in his right leg, and sprain in his right wrist. He’s healing fast and we set up an IV for him with a strong painkiller and a weak potion to aid him in his healing.”

They stopped in front of a closed off room occupied by Reno and Rude, but the nurse wasn’t finished. What she said next made Tseng’s blood run cold. “He died an hour in for approximately two minutes after suffering sudden cardiac arrest. We intended to put him on a ventilator before letting him out but he began breathing for himself just fine.” She held out her hand and waited for Tseng to hold out his, curling his fingers over the object. “You’ve got a fighter there, sir. He won’t be leaving you anytime soon.”

With that, she left back for the station. Tseng’s head followed her for a moment before focusing on his hand, opening it to find Reno’s metal hair clasp. He’d be wanting it when he woke up. Speaking of which, Tseng turned around, straightened out his story for Rude, whispered a thank you to Leviathan and whoever else heard his prayer, and gave a gentle rap of the door before entering.

The lights of the room were dimmed for the night, leaving the luxury room bathed in the minimum amount of light for the occupant to sleep easy whilst allowing guests and nurses who entered to see. Rude sat in a chair pulled up beside the bed, jacket resting over the back of his chair and ungloved hand resting inside—

_Reno._

It took all of Tseng’s focus not to visibly react to Reno’s bedridden form. He’d seen the other patched up and bruised before, but never had he seen his second so quiet and still. It was unnatural for someone as loud and energetic as Reno to look so… dead. One glance at Rude proved the other Turk was struggling with the sight as well. Swallowing thickly, Tseng pulled the remaining chair up to Reno’s other side and played with the metal clasp in his hands as rhythmic beeps and buzzes of machines attached to Reno filled the empty space.

While Reno may have been the smallest of the three remaining Turks (in both height and build), he’d never looked as small as he did in that bed covered in gauze and bandages and surrounded by medical equipment. The sickly pale form before them just didn’t seem real. Reno was supposed to be loud, warm and energetic – even in sleep – not quiet, cold and… so _still_.

“What did they say?” Short and to the point, as if there was nothing wrong in the world.

“Not much,” Tseng lied, you know, like a liar. “He’s recovering quickly. Just sleeping it off.” A stranger would be forgiven for thinking Rude plainly accepted the response, but Tseng caught the tightening of muscles in the man’s face, his hardening gaze and tighter protective grip of Reno’s hand. The air was suffocating. “He piloted us back, you know? He used his banned skills to get us out safely.”

An amused huff came from Rude whose gaze flickered towards Reno as he gave the younger’s hand another squeeze and rubbed the back of said hand with his thumb. Tseng arrived with the intention of allowing Rude a break but it seemed the other would not be willing to leave any time soon. Standing up, Tseng set the hair clasp atop the overbed table, gaze catching on Reno’s bright hair splayed across the bed before breaking to observe the fine details of the windowless wall, room hidden away from the desperate prying eyes of the public. Only the best for someone as important as a Turk.

“You’ll be taking the next few days off, I assume?” Rude nodded, gaze unfaltering, as if Reno would pass the moment he looked away. Tseng nodded and moved towards the door without a word, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Do get some sleep. He won’t be leaving any time soon. If he even thinks about it, I’ll drag him back myself.” And with a click, he was gone to finish his reports and file some paperwork.

Tseng had a feeling a certain someone would be looking to return home very soon.


End file.
